


Acts of Atonement

by BiggieSimpz



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Apple of Eden, Assassin OC - Freeform, Assassins vs. Templars, Eventual Fluff, M/M, OC is an asshole, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other OC's to be included, Slight Mention of Rape, Slight Reincarnation, You don't need to have played any of the games, at first though, does not follow any AC games, facts and other events won't follow the series too much, please no hate, slight slow burn, tbh didn't do too much research on the AOT universe, we're just gonna see how this story goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2020-05-19 20:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19363690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiggieSimpz/pseuds/BiggieSimpz
Summary: In the Year 845, the Assassin Brotherhood failed to secure the Apple of Eden located in a temple, underneath the city of the Shiganshina District. On the same day, thousands of citizens perished at the hands of the Titans and mankind was forced to surrender the outer ring, Wall Maria.Ex-Assassin Roman Kesselman must now reclaim what was lost on that unforgivable day in order to rectify the mistakes from the past. Fast forward 2000 years (give or take), Andreas Glehn is abducted by the Assassins and must re-live the life of his ancestor in order to recover the lost Apple of Eden.





	1. Prologue

_ Somewhere Underground, Shiganshina District _

_ Year 845 _

 

It’s remarkable truly that something so incredibly extraordinary and advanced could ever thrive underneath an insignificant town. Could the people above, the bustling citizens and the money-hungry merchants, feel the immense power and knowledge that flowed through the temple? If he had disclosed to them that right underneath their feet laid a place of supernatural wisdom and strength could their microscopic minds even begin to absorb that fact alone?

 

_ Probably not _

 

Fair-skinned fingers ran themselves up the large stone pillars. Triangles and other basic shapes were carved elegantly on the stone and illuminated in a pure white glow. These pillars were erected on both sides of the long pathway to the center where he stood. He dropped his hand to his side and slowly turned his head to the prized possession. 

 

The center was circular and there was an elevation, a podium. Levitating on top, was a sphere no larger than a  melon. It was made in stone and carved with similar designs like the rock that surrounded it. The male took steps overdue to the sphere, taking a second to leap over the body of a hooded female long dead. Towering over the sphere, he smiled to himself and he raised his wanting hands, with fingertips throbbing to unite and to feel what true raw power was. 

 

But the male withdrew abruptly as if struck with an income realization. He shut his eyes in exasperation and reopened them once more. He believed he had gotten rid of those  _ nuisances _ from the start. But of course, those idiotic Assassins could not grasp the full fact that  _ he and the Order had won.  _

 

“Having a grand ole time  _ Assassin _ ?” he spat eyes still transfixed on the item before him, “It is finished.”

 

There was a thud of feet that fell delicately to the ground. Fingers clasped around the sphere that rested on his fleshy palm. At once his hazelnut eyes widened in absolute shock and his body acted as a cloth absorbing the sphere’s indefinable power. Once entering the temple hours ago, he knew there was a transformation somewhere inside of him. He felt drawn to its center, craving for more knowledge that only this Piece could provide.  

 

But that sensation long ago was  _ nothing _ compared to what he went through at that moment. He then turned his attention to his supposed killer, the last barrier between him and his escape. He eyed the sinister black hood that casted a thick shadow over the features of the Assassin.  There had been a time, long ago, in which the very sight of the infamous hooded beasts would strike freezing terror in his heart faster than their secreted blade ever could. Yet seeing it now, things had changed for the better. He had the upper hand, and if he wanted he could command the Assassin to exercise its knife and impale their own throat, suffocating on the same claret blade that so many of his brothers and sister had done in the past. 

 

But he would not grant the Assassin such a death. For only a  _ true _ opponent was worthy to experience the work of the Fragment. No..he would kill the Assassin with his  _ own _ hand and prove to those who come searching for the body that the New Order was about to commence. 

 

His killer spoke breaking the void of silence. “You have no idea what you’re doing” 

 

Based on the deep baritone owned by the Assassin, he made the conclusion they were a male. His words almost made him laugh.  _ He _ had no idea what he was doing? Ridiculous. The Creed the Assassin’s followed had no order or understanding. He was well versed in their beliefs and knew it to be filled with ignorance of their world and a sense of lawlessness. He’d be damned if he allowed such a dysfunctional Order attempt to disrupt what those before him died for.

 

_ A new world, A New Order _

 

“It is not me who does not understand, your organization believes such immense power must be locked up for the betterment of others!” He snapped eyes narrowed and dark ”But this Apple and so many more could help  _ heal  _ this perishing world.”

 

“By  _ destroying _ it?” the Assassin exclaimed parrying his words at once,” because that will happen if you attempt to master its power!”

 

_ Again with the foolishness _ . His mind was starting to hurt and his patience was growing transparently thin. The Assassin was lost in darkness his Grandmasters blanketed over his eyes. He was blind to the truth and deaf to the promulgation of a better future. His fate had been decided and the only thing left was for it to reap its consequences.

 

“ _ You are misguided! _ ” He growled, “and for your ignorance,  _ you will die _ .”

 

_ Patter patter patter!  _

 

The boots of the Assasin hit solidly against the stone as he darted toward him. In the way, he was impressed. Even facing certain death, his killer would stick and die for his Creed to the very end. Something in him shifted and he concluded that this lone Assassin was a warrior charging into a battle he knew cannot win. But even so, fear had no hold on him and he fought anyway. He raised the Apple of Eden before him. This Assassin was worthy of a release. His death would commence the beginning of a beautiful,  _ established _ world free of Assassins. The sphere glowed a bright yellow light in his hand and a large grin curled his lips. A narrow white beam of light shot towards the Assassin who lunged to the side narrowly missing the fatal contact. The beam of light had instead blasted at pillar which crumbled at the very contact. The temple began to rattle violently, small pebbles from above fell and pattered on the ground.

 

The rumbles had not ceased and seemed to be growing even more climactic. What was going on? Was it simply an occurrence above ground? All too soon, a scent infiltrated through his nostrils. It was hot, sharp, and rotten. His hand snapped up to his nose attempting to block it out. 

 

_ It was blood. _

 

The smell was overwhelming but the thought of its source was greater. What was happening above ground? Jolting himself back to reality, he began to escape, passing the assassin who made a grab for his leg. He clutched the Apple to his chest retracing his steps, that was falling apart with every second, back to the top. He could no longer dodge the bloody air he continued to breathe in. It was getting stronger and more defined. There were women and men shrieking followed by the guttural growls of beasts. 

 

_ Hugo Frosch had slipped from death’s clutches in the Temple, yet at the hands of humanities greatest enemy? He and thousands would meet their dreaded conclusion.  _


	2. Chapter 1

_ Barnes & Noble, Bridgeport _

_ Year 2014 _

 

Through the automatic sliding door, a male in his twenties or so stepped into a local Barnes & Noble. His limbs tickled with jitters and his heart race anxiously. His mind was set on purchasing a copy of the booming Attack on Titan manga for himself. Ever since it launched last year, he has seen nothing but praise around it. Everyone fell in love with its gory and very depressing storyline and its characters-including himself. While walking toward the only section of the store that sold various mangas, he could vividly picture the rest of his evening. He would purchase his copy, grab some dinner on the way, and savor the food while his eyes danced gleefully from section to section. To avoid silence from filling his apartment room, he would probably switch his TV  to some random but favorited channel. He could only imagine the heart-dropping truths he would come to learn and could taste the cliffhanger that lay in store for him when he neared the very end.

 

_ He couldn’t wait. _

 

There was another potential buyer that stood in front of the shelf. It was a male probably his age or somewhat older. He was fair-skinned and a foot or two taller than him. He had rectangle glasses that he pushed up, once Andreas arrived at the shelf, as he consumed himself in his manga. Paying no mind to the male, Andreas looked eagerly for the row of Attack on Titan. His dark blue eyes shimmered as they caught the bold title written on the spine of each issue. Fingers graced each manga while his eyes scanned every one before finding his desired copy. 

 

He slid it out of its position and opened its content. He allowed the pages to flow with the mild guidance of his thumb. He grinned to himself for a moment before closing it up, the last thing he wanted was to get hooked by the first page. It usually resulted in him remaining at the bookstore and finishing the book there. It was an occasional occurrence  and he regretted it every time.  _ Not today. _

 

From the corner of his eye, he noticed that the other male was nowhere to be found. It shocked him that he was so immersed in his findings he hadn’t noticed his disappearance.

 

_ And that would prove, in mere seconds, to be his downfall. _

 

Andreas at once felt a presence behind him. It was a body, that much was certain, and the proximity of this person had long broken what was socially appropriate. A million thoughts were racing through his head and his hands clutched his book with slightly trembling hands. 

 

“Do not move.” A strong british accent whispered in his ear, “Because currently, you have a 10 inch blade directed in a fatal position.”

 

“What do you want?” Andreas asked after swallowing thickly, “Money or something?”

 

The male scoffed, “Come with me and  _ act casual _ as if your life depends on it.”

 

_ That’s because it does _ , Andreas thought angrily. He nodded firmly and turned to exit the shelf. He nearly yelped when he felt the man  pinch his shirt stopping him in his tracks.

 

“Tsk, leave the book.”

 

_ Damn it. _

 

* * *

 

 

With no manga or certainty of his survival, Andreas was escorted out of the bookstore and into the parking lot. He was brought not to his car, but to another that was parked a fair distance from his own. It was small, black, and lean and by the symbol on the front, it was a Lexus. He was ordered to open the door and he got in at once.

 

He exhaled realizing that the entire time he was leaving,  _ he had not taken a normal breath.  _ He wiped his hands harshly on his blue jeans where he imprinted the outcome of his nerves onto its material. The driver door was opened and his abductor slid in. It took only a glance to realize this man was the same one he had spotted reading when he arrived at the shelf. Now he began to wonder if all of this was planned from the minute he stepped in. Did this male stalk him before acting? Was he a psychopath and simply doing this for the hell of it? Or was he about to find himself a victim of human trafficking? 

 

”Before anything, put this on.” The male said his arm outstretched behind and in his grasp was a black blindfold. 

 

Andreas was well aware, from the amount of movies involving kidnap, that this was a precaution done to make sure that only the male knew where their location would be. Based by the icy tone of his voice, Andreas assumed that this guy was not to be messed with. It’d be best if he just followed orders for now.

 

He tied the cloth over his eyes, his heart racing as he engulfed himself into darkness. He tied double knots to secure it around his head, not wanting the cloth to fall from his eyes at the wrong moment. 

 

“Good.”The male said, “I was told to give a brief overview of everything and the rest will be explained when we reach our destination. My name is Shaun Hastings and there is a good reason why you are in this predicament. No, I’m not going to sell you and your body parts. Rather, in short, you have a vital connection to an ancestor of yours who fought for our Cause. In addition,  your ancestor had dealings with an artifact we are trying to find. I will answer three questions, go.”

 

Andreas didn’t know where to even start. He had been abducted from a bookstore because of his ancestor that’s supposedly important to this man? And this same person from long ago knew of an artifact this man is trying to find? And what is this Cause he’s fighting for?

 

He only had three shots in getting answers and would then have to wait who knows how long until he can get the full story.

 

“O..Okay then, who exactly are you?”

 

“Shaun Hastings, a member of the Assassin Brotherhood”


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda another short chapter whoops.

_Undisclosed location, Connecticut_

_Year 2014_

 

 

They had been driving for what felt like hours. Andreas hadn’t asked a question since they arrived at the car mostly because he was trying to filter out what he should ask Shaun. This man was part of a brotherhood of Assassins. When Andreas heard such a word he saw people dressed in all black with snipers and silent pistols positioned on rooftops overlooking their target. He hadn’t expected to get such a reality shock.

 

 Coughing lightly, Andreas could feel that Shaun had grown irritated by his lack of question. He didn’t know how, but he could _feel_ it, “So.. why are these Assassins trying to find this artifact?” 

 

“These artifacts are fragments of a civilization that existed before mankind.” Shaun went ”The artifact your ancestor dealt with was one of the Apples of Eden. These apples hold an extraordinary power and if placed in the wrong hands, could affect our entire world _negatively_.”

 

“How did you all find me?”Andreas blurted out his hunger for answers got the better of him

 

“An associate of mine hacked into the database of a company called Abstergo Industries. I know you’ve heard something about them. “Shaun sighed, “They practically have a toe dipped in every aspect of our lives. They’ve been trying to find a direct lineage to an assassin or templar who lived during the time the artifact was discovered and they found you and your ancestor. _Luckily_ , we got to you before they did.”

 

Andreas shuddered. Shaun made it seem like he did him a favor by abducting him, but how could he be sure that he was on the right side? _Assassins_ didn’t bring comfort to his rampaging nerves. But Andreas had picked up Templar from Shaun's explanation and he guessed they were enemies of the Assassins. Andreas didn’t know what to make of such a name. _It could go both ways..._

 

“Who are the-”

 

“You’ve asked three questions, now you’ll just have to wait till we get there.”

 

 _Figures,_ Andreas thought rolling his eyes under the cloth. Instead of thinking of what could be next he busied himself with thoughts of his ancestor. Shaun had said that this person was an Assassin. Andreas amused himself with an image of a guy that looked somewhat like him chasing down Templars, but the picture made him wonder what century his ancestors lived in. The 18th century would be fun to learn about once more and the role his ancestors played. Or perhaps they lived during an ancient time? He knew that he was mostly from german descent, maybe his ancestor was a warrior assassin in Germania? 

 

“ _But_ , I’m feeling generous, ask two more,” Shaun spoke

 

Andreas grinned excitedly, “Okay! Do you know who my ancestor is?”

 

“His name is Roman Kesselman”

 

“What period did he live around?”

 

This time Shaun didn’t speak at once. Andreas fidgeted in his seat concern creeping up from the silence. 

 

“Ask another.” Shaun finally said

 

Andreas decided he wasn’t going to bother asking why, although the question did seem innocent enough. Nevertheless, he settled on another question that had dwelled into his head, “Who are these Templars you said before?”

 

“The Templars believe that they can create an ideal _perfect world_. However, they believe that mankind is too corrupt to do it themselves and thus strive to create this New Order with them as the leaders.” Shaun explained and Andreas could hear the resentment

 

Whether the information was true or not, what he heard didn’t sound pleasing to him at all. These Templars want to make mankind its subjects in this New World they wish to create. If what Shaun said was true, Andreas would gladly follow the footsteps of _Roman Kesselman_ to the very end if it meant thwarting the plans of these so-called Templars.


	4. Chapter 3

_ Undisclosed location, Connecticut _

_ Year 2014 _

  


Andreas jolted awake with a start as if harshly tapped. His body had registered that they stopped moving for some time and simply woke him up. The excitement seemed to be the only feeling Andreas could produce. He had been stuck in the car for hours and the blindfold was starting to hurt his eyes. He refrained from saying anything though, he didn’t think he could bear the disappointment if his assumptions were proven incorrect.

  


But he couldn’t ignore the nagging voice in his mind that pressured him to say something-anything. He swallowed thickly as if attempting to shove down the words inching up his throat. Ultimately, he failed and gave in.

  


“A-are we there?”

  


There was a thick pause from Shaun and Andreas grinned when hearing the sound of the engine being shut off followed by the popping noise of the driver door opening, “Yes, but  _ do not  _ take off the fold.”

  


Andreas nodded and sat perfectly still as the door was shut. His was opened just seconds after and unkind hands guided him out of his seat. Shaun gave him no time to stretch as he was escorting forward, but Andreas was alright with it. The drive had been mind-numbingly long after the scattered conversation he had with Shaun. Anything was better than being stuck in the dreadful vehicle any longer. 

  
  


“Becs, we’re here open the door won’t you?”

  


Andreas assumed that Shaun had gotten on the phone. He could faintly hear a female voice brightly responding with a, “you got it!” before silence befell them once more. Shaun continues to guide him forward telling him shortly there were a set of small stairs up ahead.  His warming came quite late and Andreas nearly fell face front. They stopped walking right when there was the sound of a metal door being pushed open, “Good work Shaun, Lucy’s gonna be stoked to know the plan went smoothly!”

  


It was the cheery female voice from the phone call just moments ago. 

  


“What did you expect?” Shaun spoke with an offended scoff, “Plus Mr. Glehn isn’t much of a fighter-or much of anything really.”

  


Andreas decided not to show his clear offense to that statement.

  


“Oh well, let’s take off that fold hm?” The woman spoke

  


“Please do.” Andreas went with a small smile

  


He stood still feeling as small thin fingers undid his work from hours ago. The cloth fell from his eyes and his palms went to rub them to adjust. After several blinks, he stared back at a woman with short black hair and ecstatic matching eyes. She grinned and handed Andreas the blindfold.

  


“Great! I’m Rebecca, don’t bother introducing yourself I already know who you are!” She teased, “Come on, there’s someone else who wants to meet you.”

  


Andreas nodded and looked back at Shaun who raised a brow in question. He followed Rebecca down a dark hallway then up some stairs. They reached an open room that had windows covered up with all types of material. In the corner were a desk where a laptop sat and piles of books. A thumbtack board was also set up with various images and text. Opposite of that was a red and white chair that reminded him of the exact ones used for patients for therapy. However, this one was hooked up to a computer and other tech beside it. Sitting at a chair that sat beside the red one was a girl with blonde hair styled in a pixie cut. At the sight of their arrival, she leaped up and dashed over to them.

  


“Oh thank god the mission went well!”She sighed with relief and she looked to Andreas, “I’m Lucy it’s a pleasure to meet you, Andreas.”

  


She held out a hand and he shook it with a small smile. She did the same but it dropped a second later, “I’m sure you have many questions.”

  


Andreas chuckled nervously, “Some were cleared up by Shaun, but I still have so many.”

  


Rebecca laughed, “Lemme guess, he did the ole ‘you can only ask 3 questions’.”

  


Andreas nodded weakly which fueled Rebecca's elated laughter. He could hear Shaun mutter something and his figure briskly passed him to the desk with the books. Immediately he began to busy himself with the items. Lucy took his wrist at once and guided him to sit in the red chair. He pivoted around kicking his feet up to stretch his body out against it. The chair was somewhat comfortable and Andreas noticed that beside his head was a piece of tech that didn’t seem all too friendly.  Guessing by its placement, Andreas assumed that it would lock onto the individual’s head. But why did the three own such a device?

  


Lucy returned to her previous seat beside him while Rebecca stood behind her leaning on the back of the chair for support.

  


“Alright, let me explain everything.” She said in a calm voice, “as you should know already, we are all Assassins fighting against Abstergo Industries, the Templars. We are trying to find an Apple of Eden that has been discovered before they do. What we know is that the Apple is in Germany, the location-neither us nor the Templars know. So far so good?”

  


Andreas nodded, “so my ancestor, Roman, he’s from Germany?”   
  


The three Assassins made eye contact with each other. Shaun made a scoffing sound the busied himself once more. Rebecca bobbed her head as if trying to find truth in his words. 

  


“Not exactly.” Lucy began, “But we’ll get to that soon. First, we want you to know that finding this Apple is vital. Apples of Eden can practically control our entire world which is what the Templars are trying to do. If we can find this apple before them, it’s a victory for the Assassins.”

  


“However if you fail, just know that humanity's enslavement is all your fault” Shaun piped coldly

  


Andreas’s mouth parted in shock and Rebecca shot a look at the British male. Shaun had made it seem that finding this Apple was important, but the way Lucy described it made him feel that this artifact was much more than simply _‘important’_. Doubt began to creep in causing Andreas to sink into the chair, what if he did fail to find this Apple? How would he do it? Would he have to go back in time somehow?

  


“U-Um how am I going to find this Apple?”He questioned, “because I _swear_ , I don’t know where it is!”

  


“That’s where this baby comes in!”Rebecca exclaimed excitedly motioning to the chair he sat upon, “This here is the Animus 2.0. Basically, we’ll hook you in using this-” She picks and held up a large needle and the sight alone made Andreas blanch, “And you’ll experience and live through Roman’s memories.”

  


“Within them, you will find the exact time and location Roman found the Apple of Eden and where he placed it.” Lucy added, “It’s quite simple.”

  


Andreas nodded still nervous about the needle, but he knew it would be a temporary thing. He still wondered why Lucy or the others hadn’t explained to him the background of his ancestor. Was it more complicated than he perceived it to be?

  


“Not to be rude, but this is a race you know.” Shaun added, “The Templars have also found a descendant during the period who also was heavily involved with the Apple.”

  


Lucy nodded softly while Rebecca waved a hand, “Yeah we know, it was that Smith guy.”

  


Andreas inwardly smiled to himself. The moment the name came out of Rebecca’s mouth, he thought of Erwin Smith, Commander of the Survey Corps and a notable important character in Attack on Titan. Erwin was his second favorite character mostly for his reasoning and purpose. At the thought, his heart sank into his stomach realizing that as long as he stays here, he wouldn’t be able to catch up on anything Attack on Titan related. The sadness grew deeper as he further realized he wouldn’t be able to read more about his most favorite character Levi-

  


“ _Ackerman_ you idiot” Shaun scolded, “He was involved with the Apple  _ and _ Roman Kesselman. If  only we got to him instead…”

  


Andreas picked his head up at the same time Lucy lightly scolded Shaun for his rudeness. Surely he hadn’t heard  _ Ackerman _ ? He wasn’t aware that the name was based on someone else’s. But excitement bubbled in his stomach would he get to interact with an Ackerman even if it wasn’t the same one? As if she could visibly see his thoughts run across his face, Lucy bit her lip and leaned slightly forward.

  


“Hey, Andreas.” Lucy asked slowly and he hummed in response, “How much do you know about Attack on Titan?”


	5. Chapter 4

_ Undisclosed location, Connecticut _

_ Year 2014 _

 

Andreas remembered vividly how he was introduced to the world of Attack on Titan. It was in December of last year and he had been scrolling through Tumblr mindlessly liking artwork and blogs of topics he knew or didn’t. He stumbled on a particular drawing of a pale man with a raven undercut, clutching strongly two twin blades. Interested, Andreas checked the tags underneath it and saw Attack of Titan as one of them. Out of pure curiosity, he typed it up and various posts of art and gifs appeared on the screen. It didn’t take the blonde male long to completely fall head over heels for the storyline he managed to connect based on the blogs and such. 30 minutes later, Andreas was waist-deep in the first issue of the manga and its original and twisted plot appealed to him. 

 

There had been many nights and sometimes during the day, where he would wonder how it would be to live in a time where human-eating monsters threatened the earth. Andreas knew well that he would be scared shitless even if he desired to be strong like Levi Ackerman or even Eren Jaeger. The whole idea behind 3DMG  baffled him and he wondered how the characters even mastered such complicated gear. Not to mention how mentally strong one had to be when watching comrades get torn apart by the Titans. It had to be madness.

 

With all those unending thoughts and questions, Andreas simply could not believe that the world he fell in love with, _once existed_.

 

Andreas was concerned why Lucy even bothered to bring up Attack on Titan. It was a manga, a story thought up by a single man, so why did it relate to the Assassins and Templars? When Lucy explained how the story was built behind a history forgotten by humans, Andreas took a moment to let her words settle. Yet they couldn’t because it was absurd, _impossible_. Andreas spent years in school and suffered many hours of history lessons and not one mentioned anything about Titans or walls built to protect the human race. Andreas knew that mankind’s history was still not completely known. There are a few things in the past that remain a mystery, but Andreas refused to believe that Titans once scoured the earth.

 

“I know it sounds stupid” Lucy spoke slowly, “But the Templars have managed to gain memories that do relate to the storyline of the Titans and the Walls.”

 

“And with their vast influence, they managed to keep quiet about such a monumental time period of mankind. However, that doesn’t mean they can’t make some profit from it.” Shaun added

 

Andreas swiftly turned to the male, “So the author, Isayama, is a Templar?”

 

“That could be a potential factor or he’s simply an accomplice,” Shaun said, “But all of that doesn’t matter. What does, is that you understand Attack on Titan is based on lost historical events and within it, an Apple was discovered.”

 

Andreas fell speechless, disbelief still clung to him, but he had no choice but to swallow the truth. Rebecca came over and nudged him playfully on the shoulder, “Don’t look so grim dude, you get to actually live in the world of your favorite manga! Wish that could be said with others.”

 

Rebecca was right and anticipation began to sneak up on him. If Attack of Titan was based on historical truths lost to the world, then that means Levi Ackerman existed since the Templars found his modern ancestor. Andreas couldn’t wait to interact with him along with other characters. Yet he was still wary about the whole idea. Interacting with Titans was the last thing Andreas wanted to do. No to mention the food shortages that occurred within the walls. It was those little facts and much more that stopped him from being totally on board.

 

“I don’t think I could handle going head to head with a Titan” He chuckled nervously looking over to lucy

 

“You’re lucky, the period takes place before and during the Revolution or known to you as the Uprising Arc” Lucy explained, “You know better than all of us that all activities outside the walls were frozen for a time.”

 

Andreas heart sunk, “I’m...not exactly caught up.”

 

Lucy’s lips parted and she gave him a remorseful look. Despite the small spoiler he smiled and brushed it off.

 

* * *

Andreas winced when Rebecca injected the catheter into his arm. He ignored Shaun’s mockery for his reaction and took a deep breath. He wasn’t expecting for his day to end the way it did. In a few moments, he was about to relive the memories of his ancestor in the world of Attack on Titan. It had been Shaun’s words that made him persuade Lucy and Rebecca to start up the Animus. With every minute they wasted sitting around, the Templars were getting closer and closer to finding the Apple. In a way, Andreas felt sorry for Levi’s descendant. The Templars probably brainwashed them into thinking they were helping a good cause. Yet in a way, whoever Levi’s descendant was, they probably felt bad for him too.

 

“You’ll do great Andreas” Lucy spoke, “And while you’re in we’ll help you on the way.”

 

Andreas nodded and Rebecca came into his vision and pressed something on the sides of his face. As soon as she disappeared from his sight, his eyes began to get heavy and soon surrendered to the drowsy feeling his heart thumping away in his chest. When he finally awoke, Andreas found himself in a tavern. 


	6. Chapter 5

_ The Frozen Sun, Stohess District _

_ Year 850 _

 

There were eight polished wooden tables with three matching chairs to go with them. Out of the eight tables available, only three were taken, and the comfortable emptiness in the tavern appealed to Roman. The Frozen Sun was perhaps his favorite tavern in the district. The others he had visited were filled mostly with nobles and if not, were still noisy nonetheless.  The Frozen Sun was quiet and carried an atmosphere that calmed Roman’s nerves after a tiring day of work. Of course, his work was nothing like the others who stopped by to take a pint or two of ale. Those who came were probably carpenters, fishmongers, or humble merchants. He, instead, was an active mercenary either being paid to take a life or playing errand boy. The job paid well and aligned with his mostly-violent talents. After being banished from his Brotherhood there was not much for an Ex-Assassin to do. It wasn’t like his father had tried to teach him the art of trade. His father had been a Master Assassin and trained him to become just like him. That aspiration had lasted for years, and Roman didn’t dare bring himself to think what thoughts his father would have seeing him now. 

 

Roman busied himself by taking a look at the other souls in the tavern. The nearest one was a forgetful looking fellow whose face was blocked off by the newspaper. Roman eyed the chilling image of a Titan eye boring into the crack in the wall. He still couldn’t believe that actual titans made up the one thing stopping them from devouring mankind. Not to mention there were individuals gifted with abilities to shift into them. Roman wondered what became of the female titan, cause it had been ages since he last heard about her. Hopefully, the beast was rotting in the deepest pit of hell, he thought bitterly, and he turned his head to the last consumers. It was two teenage looking males who were enjoying a small meal of sausage and greens. Roman listened as their forks clicked against the plate and their laughter reduced to low octaves. Their youthful, ambitious appearances made him remember that fateful day when his entire Assassin career shattered along with the earth as the blasted Templar escaped his clutches. If he believed the female titan was rotting in hell, he damn well hoped that Templar was having a grand ole time with her. But the likeliness of that was slim. The Templar probably managed to squeeze his way out of the city, clutching the Apple with pride as if he hadn’t caused the mess around them. 

 

Roman knocked his head back as he emptied the wooden mug of its content. The bitter brown liquid seeped down his throat and he took it down with one gulp. Once straightening up, he caught the eyes of the small bartender who wordlessly asked if he wanted another. Roman had killed two men today and one was the reason there was an aching feeling on his side, so he nodded and the bartender was quick to walk around the counter and refill his mug. 

 

Roman muttered a word of gratitude and watched as the man scurried back to his position behind the counter. At the same time, the door politely opened giving off the chirp of the bell attached to it. Interested, Roman looked to see the new addition to the tranquil vibe around them. He was greeted with familiar dark robes draped over a feminine figure, an Assassin no doubt.

 

The poor barkeep stuttered out a greeting and Roman didn’t blame him. Assassins, former or not, carry a fearful aura that often helped with their Cause. Of course, it wasn’t meant for the common people to fear but for their enemy, yet with the large looming hoods and dark colors it couldn’t be helped.

 

Roman took a strong sip of his drink and watched as the Assassin waved off the barkeep and stalked right over to him. Blue eyes remained unamused and Roman casually set his drink down and leaned forward, folding his hands together as if awaiting a business meeting. The Assassin sat down ahead of him and gloved fingers grasp the hood and pulled it down. Roman shook his head as he drank in the brown ringlets of curls that fell from her lazy ponytail. Her chocolate brown eyes narrowed at his amusement.

 

“Clara Heissler, a pleasure.” Roman mused his generous lips pursed in a teasing smirk

 

“Oh shut it” Clara scoffed her thin arms folding along with her legs, “Is this what you’ve been up to all these years Kesselman? Drinking?”

 

Offended, Roman rolled his eyes his teasing look faded into something more serious, “Of course not, I’m off work.”

 

Clara raised an arched brow, “Work you say? I could never see you working with others.”

 

“I don’t” Roman shut down coldly, “I’m a... _hired_ worker.”

 

With the pause and emphasis put on his words, Clara knew exactly what he meant. She nodded understandingly, her bottom lip protruding, “Makes more sense.”

 

Roman sighed and leaned farther into the table. His royal blue eyes glowed dangerously under his short eyelashes, “I know for a fact you’re not here for leisure so let’s hurry this up shall we?”

 

Clara narrowed her eyes and mimicked his actions and their faces stood quite close to each other, “The Brotherhood would like to offer you a chance at returning.”

 

Roman blinked incredulously, his devious-like demeanor melting away. A puff of air escaped his lips as buried a his fingers into his grain-colored hair. Clara rarely ever joked around so she had to be serious. Years after the incident now the Grandmasters want him back.

 

“Under what condition?”He spoke eyes narrowing suspiciously

 

“You reclaim what was lost.” She responded simply

 

“So he died that day,” Roman asked but made it sound as if he confirmed it. Clara nodded and he felt somewhat pleased, “And the Grandmasters want me to rummage through endless amounts of debris in a titan infested district. _Sounds pleasant_.”

 

Clara gave him a deadpanned look. 

 

“If only.” She sighed wistfully and from a brown leather satchel under her outer coat she pulled out a folder and placed it on the table, “read this.”

 

Roman slid the content toward his direction and opened up the folder. The first document was an outdated official report to the Grandmasters. Roman glanced at the words and phrases that were underlined. It seems that the Assassins had a spy in the Government whose identity was unknown. 

 

_..From witnesses during the Liberation, it can be confirmed that Eren Jaeger possessed a sphere when he commanded the Titans to attack…_

 

_…there has been a confidential meeting by the Templars, alongside their Grandmaster, to plan a course of action…_

 

_..plan to use the strained relationship between the Government and the Survey Corps to gain the apple through Eren Jaeger…_

 

_…Smith will be put on house arrest and interrogated for its location. The Survey Corps and all its activity will be frozen while the government conducts a search for Eren Jaeger and Historia Reiss (known to be the true heir to the throne)…_

 

 

Roman flipped through the many of documents some clipped with sketches of people. He paused when he saw the illustration of a young boy and even from a simple drawing he could feel the inner rage coursing out from his eyes. He glanced down at the caption which read: Eren Jaeger. He looked up to Clara who waited patiently yet he knew she was aware of his decision. Roman was not one to back down from an objective, especially one that would rectify his past mistakes and welcome him back into the Assassins.  With a curt nod from him, Clara got to her feet. She reached over and took his mug and downed the rest of his drink. His lips parted as he looked to her in amazement. She set the mug down sharply and sighed, “Stay safe Kesselman, I know you can do this.”

 

“Naturally” Roman responded and he smiled wickedly, “Now run along, dear Clara, there’s work to be done.”


	7. Chapter 6

_ The Three Walls, Stohess District _

_ Year 850 _

 

 

“Welcome Sir! to The..Three..Walls.” a poor barmaid attempted a greeting only to get swiftly ignored as Roman moved past her as if she wasn't there.

 

The Three Walls was a visible example of what life in Sina was: _comfortable and gluttonous._ Unlike his favorite place, the Frozen Sun, the Three Walls was always packed with Military Police soldiers and nobles. Plates of meat and booze were apparent on every inch of the tavern and Roman’s lips curled into a disgusted frown of how excessive they partied. But Roman shook himself from his thoughts. He was only here for his targets and they were quite plentiful tonight much to his pleasure.

 

Discreetly, Roman picked out his perfect informants. Not too drunk so that he couldn’t rely on the information, but not too sober so that the soldiers would get suspicious. As an Assassin, he was particularly skilled at viewing the weaknesses of his targets and how he could manipulate them to his advantage. Some used to call him evil for it, but as long as it served its purpose Roman couldn’t give a damn.

 

Blue eyes locked onto a table in far back, away from prying aways where  a cluster of men in uniform sat drinking heartily. His eyes practically gleamed maliciously as he eyed the horned horse crest adorned on each of their backs. He tore his gaze away for a brief second, judging how out of place he looked walking around. He slipped himself onto an empty barstool beside an unconscious old man snoring loudly. His seat was just a few feet away from the soldiers' perfect for further examination.

 

He eyed their behavior and deducted the four males were indeed at the perfect level of intoxication. Their voices were boisterous and words were slurred together. The largest out of the three downed his mug with a gulp and growled for another. His body swayed with every word and it almost seemed as if he was about to fall from his seat. Beside him was a dirty blonde male with rectangle spectacles that rested oddly on the tip of his nose. His thin lips were curled in a hazy smile as he gazed at the bigger soldier. Lastly, there was an inky haired male who carried a straight face. Only a train eye like Roman’s could tell that he was drunk since the soldier carried himself like a sober, or at least attempted it. Roman concluded it would be that soldier in particular who might cause him some trouble.

 

The man beside him groaned which sounded too sexual for Roman’s pleasure. He glared at the drunkard and lazily stole the full mug of ale from his loosen fingers. He stood up and made his way over to the MP’s. With pure finesse, he eased himself into their group pulling up an empty chair and sitting between the fat soldier and the dirty blonde. His stone-cold expression instantly melted into a lighter one with a wolfish grin and a matching lint in his eye.

 

“Having a good time men?”He asked with a laugh taking a fake drink from his stolen ale

 

The soldiers beside him cheered in agreement and indulged themselves. The raven-haired remained quiet, his matching eyes were locked onto Roman’s figure. For a split second his fake attitude cracked as he eyed the raven soldier, but just as quick, he returned to the grin and beaming eyes. It would do him no good evaluating the soldier more than he needed to. With a closer look, Roman easily detected his drunken state despite the cold exterior. Now all that was left for him was to gain information about Captain Rothberg and his exact location. 

 

One of the documents given to him by Clara included leads to where the Apple may be located. The first was that Commander Erwin Smith was in custody of the Apple. The Commander was a clever person, more so than the Military Police brigade. It wouldn’t be hard for a man such as himself to hide the very thing they were hunting on his person, somewhere so least expected.

 

Captain Rothberg and his squadron were put in charge of overseeing Erwin Smith so it was crucial to find where Rothberg was to find the Ex- Commander. 

 

“All the time my good friend!”The bigger soldier exclaimed, “now who might you be?”

 

“The name’s Ethene” Roman lied smoothly, “I don’t think I gotta ask to know you all are the King’s men.”

 

“Right you are!”The blonde barked in laughter, “and we’ve been busy!”

 

“Those damn Scouts and their bastard of a Commander” the big soldier growled slamming his mug down so hard, some of its content splashed to the wooden table, “We wouldn’t be in this fuckin mess if they could hand over the brats.”

 

The blonde shook his head disapprovingly, “I’m telling ya, the scouts are a waste of good men, ones who should be protecting our King.”

 

The big soldier hummed, “All I know is, I’d be damned if I was in Rothberg’s squad, guarding the bastard all day, I’m telling ya”

 

Roman inwardly smirked, loving how easy it was to gain information. The raven-hair was still staring at him and his grin only widened. 

 

“I agree, such an excellent leader to be left in charge of someone so idiotic like Smith” Roman went, “But he doesn’t just stay with him does he?”

 

The blonde shrug, “Beats me. But I know the man invested a lot in brothels. Always bringing his favorite men to fuck the pricey whores.”

 

“Lucky bastard doesn’t even have to pay and he doesn’t have to follow that stupid fucking policy.” The big man grunted, “I like wrapping my fingers around a good whore’s throat when I fuck ‘er, why is that such a bad thing?”

 

The two share a peal of laughter and Roman only dryly chuckles. The fat bastard was a pig and roman wanted to empty his stomach on the spot for having to sit so close to such filth. But he relents, pushing the graphic thoughts from his mind. Rothberg had been brought up and this is his only chance.

 

“Must be tough being in that squad” Roman commented bringing the conversation back the way he wanted

 

“Isn’t that Kocher in Rothberg’s squadron?”The blonde asked

 

“Kocher?”

 

“Phillip Kocher, he’s Rothberg’s subordinate.” Roman raised a brow when the raven man spoke up, “we used to be close, but I never see him around as much.”

 

“Let the guy live, he’s dirt poor!” The blonde chuckled taking a large gulp, 

 

Roman remained silent, his mind reviewing the new information. It appears that Rothberg was rather secretive so finding him directly was no use. However, he got the name of one of his inferiors, Phillip Kocher, who’s pretty poor. Western Stohess is known to house most Sina’s poor residents so it would be wise to should ask around the merchants and perhaps one could tell him more about Kocher.

 

* * *

  Roman was quite familiar with Western Stohess given that he’s had to complete many jobs when he was a Mercenary. It felt odd to consider himself a former but it was fitting. Roman knew with a full heart and soul that he’d complete his objective whatever the cost. That was who he was and who he’d always be. A man who’d trade anything for success. 

  Back during his Assassin days, he learned that the Brotherhood had many who aligned to their beliefs all over their world. Finding Philip Kocher would’ve been much easier if he still had those contacts. Roman watched and every one of his contacts turned away from him as the years progressed after his banishment. Yet Roman had no doubts about his abilities to find him. Unlike the rich, the poor were clumped together like a family. Everyone knew each other and their story whether it was true or false. It was a tight-knit community as they protected themselves and others from the Titans as well as the rich. 

 

It was in the middle of the afternoon and life on the streets was somewhat active. Little children with clothes patched with rags and other scattered fabrics ran up and down the streets, bare feet pattering against the dirt and stone. Men walked either aimlessly around as if lost in their minds or with purpose, not allowing the sullen surroundings to affect them. Some women carried small children at the hip and a basket with another. Others stood at corners enticing the broken or lost for a few minutes of passion. Some kept their heads down, hair covered by shawls with faces somber as night. 

 

Roman came to a halt at a corner, eyes studying the merchant stands and vendors. Most of them were familiar with the surroundings and contained knowledge of their regular consumers. If one wanted to find a person talking to a vendor would be a wise way to go about it. 

 

Yet Roman suspected he wouldn’t get too far with how he looked. Even as he strode down the path eyes never seemed to leave his hooded figure. He might come off as suspicious if he went around asking for Kocher, especially if he had a history amongst the community. The best way was to go in disguise, but as whom?

 

“How disgusting. I cannot _believe_ we got sent here.”

 

“I get what you mean, I feel like I might get sick just from being around these people.”

 

Roman cocked up a brow as he watched two MP’s walk right past him with rifles slung over the shoulder. Once again, Roman loved when everything just fell into place. Disguising as an MP would be perfect since Kocher was one as well. Not to mention the people were required to respect and answer to the Military Police. 

 

Roman tailed the two soldiers keeping to darken spots and crowded areas. It had been a long time since he had to tail a target and memories of the past came into mind. Soon enough the two soldiers came to a stop at an abandoned resident building. He watched as the two split up, one heading around and the other going to the front. Roman readied himself to go for the kill. Roman wasn’t planning on taking a life (not yet anyway) since he wanted nothing more but to keep suspicion at a low. He was going to come up from behind and knock the young soldier out. He needed to make sure the soldier didn’t get a glimpse of his appearance and that the other soldier wouldn’t pop up out of anywhere. 

 

His timing needed to be perfect.

 

Roman waited for any signs of movement, it appeared that the MP was very hesitant to enter into the building. Roman came out from the shadows creeping closer and closer to the man. He noticed a stray wooden rod and opted to use it against the MP. It would be quick and painless not for the MP of course. Once getting close Roman winded up his arm and swung. The MP let out a pained grunt before collapsing to the ground. Roman dragged the body to a nearby alley and worked quickly to rid the man of his clothes.


	8. Chapter 7

_Poor District, Stohess District_

_Year 850_

 

Roman ignored the icy stares given to him by the people who stalked past him. His choice had its benefits, but also carried numerous negatives. The Military Police were not always welcomed by the lower-class people, especially when carrying out taxes on different items. Nevertheless, Roman paid no mind to the dirty looks and snide insults, he needed information and this was the stealthiest and quickest way to get it. He neared an old male vendor with the thickest grey brows he had ever seen. Roman watched as he handed to a frail woman two slightly bruised potatoes. Once the customer walked away, he swiftly swooped in.

 

“How may I help you, sir?" the vendor asked 

 

Roman put on a concerned expression his blue eyes glossed with worry, “I’m looking for someone, a distant comrade of mine. We used to be in the same squad but he got transferred, does Philip Kocher ring a bell?"

The old man exhaled a sigh a rubbed a small bump that rested on top of his bald head. He looked off thoughtful before shaking his head, "no sorry, I don't know any Kocher's"

 

Roman nodded stiffly and gave the man a forced smile, “oh that’s alright. Thank you for your time.”

 

Before the old man could even respond roman departed agitation hardening his once softened stare. Of course, finding Philip wouldn’t be that easy, but can one blame him? 

 

He adjusted the rifle that slung on his arm and wandered down the road mulling over his thoughts. He could try another vendor or perhaps start asking other citizens. Roman noticed a handful of men lounging upon a pair of small steps leading into a house. Their waves of laughter and jokes could be heard from a much further distance. It wouldn’t hurt to ask them, roman thought.

 

So he carefully approached them and one of them, a short blonde who leaned against the wall alerted his other friends on his arrival. All four of them glared suspiciously trying their best to seem intimidating, Roman fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

 

“Hello gentlemen” he greeted, “I require some help.”

 

“Well go find it somewhere else.” the chubby ink haired man spat shuffling in his seat on the steps

 

“I’m trying to find someone, a friend of mine.”Roman continued ignoring him, “Do you men know a Philip Kocher?”

 

A low chorus of eery chuckles filled the space between them. Only the chubby man seated on the steps and he didn’t join in the laughter. He seemed to get even more irritated and let out a soft grumble.

 

“Yeah, we heard of him” the auburn-haired male spoke who sat beside the chubby one, “Ludwig here tried to make a move on his sister.”

 

He clapped the shoulder of the cubby one who shoved it off. His actions only fueled the laughter.

 

“Turns out the little bitch isn’t like the others. She got quite the kick.”The blonde howled, “Dug her heel right in his balls”

 

“Bastard deserved it, the hell do you look like trying to fuck little girls ?" The last man, a lanky brunette with a straggly beard jabbed

 

Roman felt utter repulsion sink into his stomach and churn. He refused to look at Ludwig and he forced another smile, “Well do you men know where I can find him ? ”

 

“Nah we never met him. I think they live somewhere down that road then take a left or some shit like that.” The auburn-haired man lazily waving his hand up the path

 

“And since we helped you, keep these MP’s off our backs alright?”Ludwig barked as Roman began to ease himself away

 

“Of course, just keep your penis away from underage females.” Roman countered back with a wicked smirk, “Have good day gentlemen.”

 

The three males had to keep Ludwig from pouncing on him. They laughed as they struggled to keep him down. Roman ignored the foul words sputtered out from his mouth and continued down the road.

 

Walking forward he slips his hands into the pockets of his trousers toying with the knife he placed there. For a short moment, he glanced upwards to the rooftops of the buildings he passed wondering what his former brothers and sisters were up to. Since he left, he hadn’t seen not one scaling houses or leaping from roof to roof in pursuit, and he supposes that’s a good thing. Assassin’s weren’t supposed to be seen or heard, they were to treat the darkness like a second self, a second body. He finds himself hoping he could see one-just one- gaining momentum as they tore across a brick roof and taking a leap, gravity instantly pulling them down. But fear of death has no hold on them and as a symbol of their faith, they put their arms ahead of them in a dive ready for what laid below. 

 

The rush, the drumming of blood that filled his ears is an old memory. He hasn’t performed a proper leap of faith in years. There were times where he’d have to jump from buildings or high elevations to escape, but those times never brought the rush a leap did. He couldn’t find it in himself to do it either. His missions were not for the victory of the brotherhood nor an advancement to hinder the Templars so there was no point. The pain of failure had suffocated his heart for years after he’d relinquished his title as Assassin. Nights upon nights he could only picture a sudden beam of light, a dead body, and a single man with eyes like a devil. 

 

The pure thought made him walk a pace paster a sudden flare of anger coursing through his body. If there was one thing Roman despised more than Templars it would be failure and he already failed once. He’d be damned if he failed this mission too.

 

 

He was nearly at a dead end when he stops blinking slowly. Ahead of him were three thuggish looking men who were approaching a house carrying clubs and other scattered weapons. His eyes narrow as he continues to walk with the intention of passing them by with no issue. He slips by easily gazing at them in the corner of his eye. He knows by the stiffening of their posture they know he’s there and a potential threat. But they know better than to start something with soldiers even if he is alone. Roman clenches his jaw, an outline of his vein creasing at his temple as he continues. The men break out in conversation, insults and other thug dialect making him grimace. 

 

“We’ll show Little Phil how to own up to one’s word.” 

 

Roman’s scenery is nothing but a blur when he stops and whirls around eyes scanning and locking to his targets. His heart was racing in tune with his mind. He quickly moves into the darkness watching as the group of thugs proceed to knock. They wait for a minute before one of them turns to his side and slams his shoulder into the door. In two attempts the wood breaks through giving them passage. Roman moves quickly as they head inside keeping low and keeping quiet. 

 

He steps inside once the thugs spread out. One goes up the rickety stairs, one goes left, the other goes right. The house is small and the outside fails to reveal the state of its interior. The furnishings are shabby and unkempt. There’s a smell of ale and smoke. Roman reaches and runs two fingers against the wooden railing and his pale fingers are coated with a dull grey. He wipes it off on his jacket and makes his way upstairs. Unlike the thug who made a racket going up, Roman uses his steps to improve his own. He knows which area makes a sound and how loud that sound is. the crashing of class and laughter rings in his ears. The thugs were destroying Philip’s house but why?

 

Roman sees two doors on either side of him. He hears movement on his left and slips out the knife he kept in his pocket. The doors wide open and he looks through. It’s a bedroom and based on the dolls that sit upon the old bed, he deducts a young girl lives with Philip. The thug tears open drawers and rips open the tiny closet. Roman crouches into the darkness when he hears a faint creak that didn’t come from him. The thug hears it and he turns practically facing him. 

 

Silence hangs between them and Roman knows that the Thug and he are not alone. Roman watches as the thug takes a step toward the bed and gets to his hands and knees peering underneath.

 

“I know you’re here little girl.” the thug sneers, “Come on out, I won’t hurt ya too bad.”

 

So the thugs were going after Philip’s relative but what had he done to provoke these men? The thug lets out a loud laugh and there’s a fit of girlish screams. The thug had been successful and roman watches as he yanked out a girl no older than 10. She had long chestnut hair that reached the small of her back, it practically covered her face as she struggled to release her wrist from the man. Roman could hear movement from behind which only meant the other two downstairs heard the noise. The thug threw the girl onto her bed and proceeded to get on top of her. Roman acted swiftly seeing an opening for an opportunity. Despite the old wooden floors, he barely made a sound. He came up from behind the man with the knife in a tight hold and reached over and cleanly sliced across his throat. He shoved him off the bed onto the floor watching as he clutched the wound that split dark crimson blood onto his hand. The man writhed in his spot and roman easily bent over and delivered a finishing blow. 

 

“Who the fuck are you!” 

 

Roman looked to his side seeing the last two standing at the door weapons at the ready. The girl made the first move after a second of complete stillness staggering to his side sprinkled in blood. The two thugs charged pulling back their clubs for a heavy blow. Roman felt the wind of their swing as he swiftly dodged their attack. He stabbed one on the side while swinging his balled-up fists across the other. During the brief moment of weakness, the thug he had stabbed was left dead on the floor in minutes. Roman kicked the last man alive in the back of his knee watching as he went down. He took a fistful of his raven hair and pulled his head upwards. He held his blade to the man’s neck, breaking the skin at once.

 

“How do you know Philip Kocher? “Roman asked calmly

 

“H-He’s a ring fighter at a club, He made a promise to us he was gonna fight for us last week against one of our enemies but he never showed up. W-we told him that if he didn’t we’d take his sister.” 

 

Roman pulled his head up higher bringing the blade even closer to his skin, the man hissed in pain and dropped his club to the floor. The girl ran forward and grabbed it scrambling back in her place. 

 

“ _You lie_ ” Roman breathed in the thug’s ear, “he’s a member of the Military Police, how is he a ring fighter at the same time? If the Military Police found out-which they would- they’d release him immediately for his actions could put a stain on their reputation if the public knew”

 

“I-I don’t know but I’m telling the truth I swear!”The man jumbled, “I-In fact! I heard he quit a long time ago- yeah!- said something about getting into an altercation with his superior!”

 

Roman pauses and looks toward the girl gripping the club in her small hands for dear life, “And you’re Philip’s sister?”

 

She nods brushing her hair out of her hair. Roman smiles warmly for a moment, “Then I suppose you’re of better use to me than this man here. Very well.”

 

Pure iron cut into raw skin as Roman dragged the edge of his blade across the thug’s throat. Blood seeped from the fatal wound and coated his fingers with the infamous crimson red. The thug choked on his last begging words for mercy and roman would never know what those words would consist of. Yet the mystery isn’t a bother to him and he finds no regret or second thoughts on his decision. Information from the direct lineage of Kocher would better him than any cheap thug. Roman sighed at the mess splayed on his hands and he let the body succumb to its gravitational pull. Little Kocher yelped as the corpse plopped to the wooden floor and she quivered as she examined what was left. Three large men dead, pools of each other's blood surrounding them like a mort to a palace. The dominant smell of blood would stain this room for weeks. 

 

“Why are you looking for my brother!”The girl exclaimed her dark eyes narrowed in a fierce glare

 

“I’ll explain shortly” Roman went simply “but first go clean yourself up while I get rid of this mess.” 


	9. Chapter 8

Getting rid of bodies was something normal for Roman as a person would rinse and dry dishes. He joined the little Kocher in her small living room and he sat ahead of the child on a worn-out couch. Her hair had been tamed and put into a low ponytail. She also replaced her dress for a brown one that was only a shade darker than her hair. Roman took notice of the small cuts on her arms and legs which only proved to him that this had happened before. Her eyes bore into his own and he found them dull, missing the bright excitement that children her age carried. This was what being poor did to small children: strips them of that adolescent joy that he himself never had. His childhood was not filled with the fear of scary men going to take him away. It was built around bloody noses and busted lips; legs aching from running and scaling house buildings, and the constant fear of bones getting crushed from a 20 foot or more height if he screwed up. 

 

Yet he would never trade those moments for anything less. They made him stronger and in time Little Kocher’s experiences would make her stronger if that’s what she chooses to do with them.

 

“What’s your name?”He questioned

 

“Emmi” She murmurs, small hands clutching the fabric of her dress, “Who are you?”

 

“Roman” He concluded deciding it would be best not to lie and instead display himself as an ally, 

 

Her lips tighten and her eyes fall to the floor, “Did you work with my brother?”

 

Her voice is cracking a sign she’s about to cry. The thug mentioned something about Philip getting into trouble with his superior, perhaps he had taken the blame on something or someone placed it on him. Either one it would be a misstep to associate himself with the military and lose the chance of building a level of trust with Emmi. 

 

“No” He puts forth shortly, “I’m not even in the military.”

 

“Where did you get the uniform then?”She snaps her head tilting to the side suspiciously, “Did you kill someone for it?”

 

Her act of strength amuses him and it reminds him of a special person in his past. A huff of laughter leaves him as he leans back on his chair and kicks a leg up, resting his ankle on his knee, “It’s quite a long story. One I don’t have the time nor want to explain. But in short, it is important I find your brother. He’s going to lead me to Captain Rothberg of the Military Police.” 

 

At the very sound of the name, Emmi stiffened which he caught in seconds, “are you going to kill him?”

 

He could hear it clearly, the raised pitch in her lightly nasally voice, a sign of lingering of hope which made him wonder. Little Kocher had been so resentful of him when she got the slightest notion that he had taken a life to procure himself a uniform. Now things had shifted and the little girl was assuming with the smallest ounce of faith that he would play executioner for the Military Captain. His interests were peaked as this lead was gaining a deeper level that he would have to venture into.What had the Captain had done to the Kocher siblings? it was pure and evident facts that Rothberg was nothing more than a scumbag and a sex-driven pig that used his title to gain shady benefits. It was a pity to imagine what the man had done to the Little Kocher.

 

“Yes,” Roman nods though he doesn’t allow his voice to admit his uncertainty. Rothberg was a bad man but if he could serve his needs well after finding the Commander he wouldn’t allow his emotions to hinder himself from eliminating such a valuable asset no matter what he had done. “What do you know about him, Emmi?”

 

She bits her lip before speaking, “I know he’s bad- _really_ bad. Philly knew that the wages an MP got were really good so he enlisted. When he came home to tell me he ranked #7 in the top 10 I never seen him so happy.” she pauses swallowing thickly “T-then all of that went to complete shit-.”

 

 

Emmi then broke down letting go of her strong facade and allowing roman to see what was really inside, pain and weakness. She bowed her head not allowing him to see her moment of failure. Roman remained in his seat watching with a stoic face as the little girl cried. _God_ did the sight remind him of that boy who shared the same face as him, his own brother Ethene. Despite being younger than him by a mere minute, Roman knew he was a lot better than him. Seeing Emmi cry her tears, it brought him back to the times the two spent in their home basement. The countless amount of times he played silent spectator to Ethene’s sorrow as his brother, at the age of 7, tried to sooth the newly bloomed bruises on his fair skin from morning training. Over and over again the boy questioned aloud, _was it really worth it?_

 

 

“Philly would come home and I’d hear him curse out and cry.” She choked out snapping him out of his thoughts "He’d never tell me what happened. He’d stay locked in his room for days and I’d rarely see him. I managed to sneak in and I saw all these letters and that b-bastard was forcing my brother to sleep with him every fucking night!”

 

At the same time, Emmi’s head shot up eyes alive with rage and raw from her crying. Roman hadn’t been expecting such a twist that instead of Emmi being the recipient of sick advances it had been her brother. Roman was not new to hearing of commanding officers abusing their power to get what they want from their inferiors, but he sure never heard of a man having to deal with such abuse. Homosexuality was rather a forbidden fruit to society and none dared to come into the public eye and admit their same-sex preference. The information was processing in his brain and externally he showed no remorse for Kocher. _Rothberg will only die when he’s no longer useful_ , he repeats in his head knowing it wouldn’t be beneficial for him to speak aloud these thoughts.

 

Emmi wiped her eyes and turned away, “Not long after I found out, he told me he quit because he wasn’t cut out to be a soldier. He never told me he joined a fight club, I found that out myself by following him every night.”

 

“What is this club called?” Roman asked

 

“The Crypt. It’s not too far from him just turn back make a right and keep going. I don’t know how it works but with every fight you win, you get money. But it’s a life or death thing for people to enjoy.” Emmi responds grimly, “I hate that he’s in it I..I don’t know what to do if he ends up dead.”

 

“If it’s a life or death situation then his opponents are horrendous or he’s an impeccable fighter.” Roman goes, “I assume he’ll be there tonight?”

 

She shrugs, “He hasn’t gone for a while. Once I tell him about what happened here I’m certain he’ll return to get the job done.”

 

“Make sure that he does. Do not tell him of my presence here, I’m sure he won’t hesitate to off me” Roman says sternly and gets to his feet, “be smart with your actions. That slip up back there was foolish and if I had been a moment too late only the Walls knows what would’ve become of you.”

 

Emmi grimaces, “Geez are you always this stuck up?”

 

“If by ‘stuck up’ you mean smart then of course.”Roman drawled with a roll of his eyes, “you carry a loose tongue for a girl who was just moments away from being a whore for the rest of her life.”

 

 

She falters, visibly wincing from his icy tone, “S-sorry, thanks back there. I’ve fought a few myself but I didn’t stand a chance against those three. The uniform fits you, you fight like an MP.”

 

 

Roman scoffs, “ _Please_ , those children don’t know real combat. Now excuse-”

 

“Make sure you make Rothberg pay!”

 

Roman had his back turned to her when she spoke up, leading himself toward the busted door. He paused for a second, irritation stunting his features. But he relaxed at once and continued forward, he couldn’t see the point of openly lying to her face.

 

“Repair your door” is the last thing he says before vanishing from her sight

 

* * *

 

 

With Emmi’s directions and a quick attire change later, Roman managed to find the Crypt and was somewhat surprised how large the fighting club was. All types of patrons from rich looking to poor flooded in and out of the double doors. The entrance and much of the proximity of the club were heavily secured with big burly men standing at the grand double doors and circling around like guard dogs. Their appearance did not cause him to hesitate in his movements. Using the darkness from the evening to his advantage, Roman slipped in with the herd of people and entered without a single predicament.

 

Once stepping inside, the large pit in the middle of the venue was the first to catch his eye. The floor was a light wood and with its color plus the large lamp hanging over it, Roman could see the streaks of old crimson. The pit was outlined with wooden poles connected with a rope sewn between them. Mini bars were at every corner and tables and chairs took up the leftover space. Roman noticed a booth with a large sign that read _“Place Your Bets Here!”_. Many crowded the booth waving money like animals and screaming the same. He noticed on a wooden beam, a sign had been posted reading _“Tonight’s lineup!”_. His eyes flickered on every name listed and it wasn’t until he reached the bottom when he saw _Philip “Mad Dog” Kocher_. Beside his name were his gender and stats that Roman didn’t really care for. He needed to find Kocher quickly before his fight. Walking out the venue, he strode around the building. Security didn’t even bat an eyelash towards him, he assumed they were only there as a deterrent for rowdy spectators.

 

He noticed a line of men walking through a door and based on their scrappy clothing and bandaged hands they had to be fighters. Waiting for the last to walk in, Roman hurried to slip in and wait patiently for the men to turn the corner. It was a tight hallway that reeked of booze and blood. Roman could hear the muffled voices of the patrons above as he crept down the hallway. The grumbles of the men ahead of him were reduced to silence and he was alone with no lead to go on. If he was reckless, he’d go knocking on every door until he found Philip, but he knew better.

 

At once the door he faced swung open and he straightened up ready for a worst-case scenario. He was faced with a young man that was a foot taller than him and was fairly good looking. He had short chestnut hair, dark eyes thick groomed eyebrows furrowed in a fierce glare. He had a lean, muscular build that was showcased by the grey tattered tank top he wore with dark trousers and boots. Roman eyed the white bandages wrapped over his hands and the scar on his shoulder. 

 

“Someone send you for me?” The young man asked with a deep frown

 

“Depends, what’s your name?” Roman asked

 

The young man narrowed his eyes staring at him suspiciously. Roman remained neutral, giving the young man a blank look in return. 

 

“Mad Dog” He grumbled fiddling with his bandages

 

Roman smirks the information matching up perfectly. He looked just like his sister with the same hair color and eye color. Roman internally grimaced remembering the information he received from Emmi. So this was the man who became yet another victim of the superiority of the Military Police. 

 

“Philip, I’ve been looking for you.” Roman nodded, “It was a troublesome adventure but worth it.”

 

At that Philip made a grab for his cloak, but Roman was quicker swiftly dodging his grab and taking his wrist, twisting and pinning it down. Philip’s eyes widened and he stared down at his defeated attack then back to him.

 

“If you think I’m going to go back to that bastard you thought wrong” He seethed yanking his wrist back and Roman released him

 

“So Captain Rothberg still requests of you?” Roman went amazed, “When was the last time a messenger came to retrieve you?”

 

Philip faltered, embarrassed from his mistake. He pulled back rubbing the wrist that had been under Roman’s hold. He had a pained expression his full lips pressed together tightly. Was he about to tear up? Roman hoped he wouldn’t. He had enough with teary-eyed people for one day. Roman sighed and noticed at once the noise from patrons had died down. It wouldn’t be long until Philip would be taken to fight to the death. He needed to get his information and quickly.

 

“I don’t work for Rothberg” Roman stated flatly, “In fact, I’ve been hunting you down in order to find him. I am to kill him.”

 

Philip immediately looked at him lips parted with shock. At once, Philip grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room behind him and shut the door. Roman grunted when his back was slammed against it, Philip pinning him there glaring heavily down at him.

 

“You’ve been hunting me down huh? How did you find me?” He snapped

 

Roman rolled his eyes and grudgingly told Philip how he interrogated some MP’s from a bar to talking directly to his sister. At the sound of Emmi, Philip stiffened and released him. Roman gave him an icy stare offended at his brutish actions. 

 

“So you were the guy that saved my sister” He breathed, “I knew she couldn’t take three guys on her own.”

 

“Yes so you better talk and answer my question” Roman snapped  


 

Philip scoffed, “I don’t have to tell you anything. Thanks for saving my sister, but I don’t talk about..him..”

 

Roman gritted his teeth and losing his patience for a second, he fisted Philip’s shirt and shoved his knee into his stomach. Philip coughed out a pained groan as he doubled over. Roman prepared to slam his boot into his face but caught himself. Letting out an awkward cough, Roman composed himself and bent down to Philip still in pain. Roman shook his head, if he had gone here to end his life, he would’ve been long dead by now. He supposes Philip was in fact, a horrendous fighter.

 

“You’ve misunderstood me, Mr. Kocher, if you think I’m a simple pushover.” Roman stated calmly, “I have an objective to find Captain Rothberg and you are going to give me the information I need.”

 

Philip wheezed out a chuckle “Haven’t seen somebody this determined since the Training Corps. I’d rip your balls off, but I know you probably got at least 14 weapons on you.”

 

“Somewhat” Roman reply dryly getting up and looking down at him, “So what will it be? Will you talk or do I have to show you one of my 14 weapons?”

 

Philip laughs again and straightens up eyeing Roman with a wolfish grin

 

“I’ll talk to you if you fight me.”

 

Roman nearly lost in cool again. This boyish and quite frankly, _childish_ behavior did not sit well with him. Philip looked like a grown young man probably in his early 20s, yet Roman could tell he seemed far too free-spirited for his tastes. If he was smart he'd know Roman was too much of a challenge for him.

 

“Fight you?”

 

“Yeah” Philip grinned, “I think you’ll be a great opponent and I’m fighting last which is always a free for all. When they request an opponent from the audience just make sure you’re the first one up and ready.”

 

Roman sighed bringing a gloved hand to rub his eyes, “What a bother. You give me your word you’ll answer all my questions.”

 

Philip hummed and put a hand on his hip, “I promise, just don’t hold back.”

 

Roman’s nose wrinkled offended, “Since I met you, I already knew you need much improvement. As long as you give me your word that you’ll supply me sufficient information, I’ll indulge you.”

 

Philip gave him a stare before laughing softly, “Em was right you _are_ a stuck up.”


	10. Chapter 9

_The Crypt, Stohess District_

_Year 850_

 

 

Roman stood alone in a corner close enough to see the spectacle in the pit but far enough not to draw attention to himself. It was pure primal fighting like seeing two dogs battle it out for food. Even at his distance, there was so much blood, so many purplish bruises on each of the fighters. Knuckles split open repeatedly-almost desperately trying to knock their opponent down for good. This barbarous act was appreciated by the crowd and as the ex-assassin looked over at the sea of spectators, some nearly toppled over the ropes into the pit screaming with excitement. How was it possible that a good amount of these people who came from humble lives and part of regular moral families, some even of high status, now stand in this venue shouting for more blood throwing hard-earned cash in hopes of victory?

 

Yet as disgusted as he was, Roman could see how the fighting club even the fight itself was a direct correlation of their world. How was he any different than the fiery redhead and blonde below?  The Assassins and Templars fought like dogs over the artifacts of the Eden with ideals on two different spectrums. Roman could practically see the ancient people having a ball while watching them go at each other for centuries.

 

But even so, there was still a cold cut difference.

 

It was almost harmonious the way the crowd was split, some crying out in anger, others silent in shock. Some were cheering and throwing up their mugs of alcohol in celebration. The redhead was down, limbs sprawled on the hardwood floor. With labored breathing, the blonde sat on top of him and sent blow after blow to the head.

 

This fight was meaninglessly fueled by desperate money and cheap fame. He had been mistaken and Roman cursed internally for comparing the fight with the War. Money was temporary and so was fame but the threat of human enslavement is not. Even if he doesn’t agree with the Templar plan, they and the Assassins fight for more than wealth and reputation. His goal was very long term expanding past the present and into the future. The announcer’s voice was a faint muffle in his ears and he slowly started to strip himself of his coat and weapons. He won’t lose sight of that, he’ll be damned to do so.

 

Once stripped of his cloak and other items, he didn’t even wait for the announcement. The redhead and blonde were gone and Philip stood alone in the pit. Roman pushed past men and women and once getting to the front, He leaped over the rope landing neatly on the ground below. 

 

“An eager one aren’t we?” The balding announcer went, “May I have your name gentleman?”

 

“Roman.”

 

“Well, Mr.Roman the rules are quite simple just..”

 

His eyes were locked onto Philip and his iron gaze was returned. Roman couldn’t care much about the rules the announcer rambled on about. He had his own to follow and take Philip out as quickly as possible by all means necessary to obtain critical information. On the flip side, Philip didn’t say anything about him winning to get info so he could let the young man win and get some money to support his sister. 

 

No.

 

He knows the cleverness of those in the poor district, the thugs and the fighters. He’ll be damned if he allows Philip to make a fool of him just because he wanted to be nice. Straying from one’s path just to play Good Samaritan makes one a failure and a corpse. 

 

No deviation from the mission.

 

Ethene learned his mistake the hard way.

 

“It’s a battle between Mad Dog vs Roman folks let the fight begin!”

 

All his thoughts and feelings zapped and immediately his eyes and brain worked as one detecting Philip’s weaknesses and possible openings. The two men circled around each other and Roman noticed his lips were moving but he heard no words come out from them. He couldn’t hear the crowd or pick out any faces, it was as if they all became silent darkness surrounding the pit. He was completely zoned into this single fight with an unbreakable tunnel vision.

  
  


When Philip charged for an attack, that’s when he moved. His reckless attack provided an opening for him to manipulate, his body moved on its own, commanded by his brain that picked out important memories from his training. There was a blow of wind and Roman found Philip tumbling back. With his opponent stunned he moved for an attack. A hit to the chest than to the face executed with speed, with deadly precision. His last blow to the jaw had been narrowly missed as he felt Philip’s skin brush up against his knuckle. Pain suddenly bloomed on his side and he grunted lowly. Philip struck him and the attack had his feet stumble to the side. His hand nursed the bruising area for a moment as he turned back to Philip. The ache in his side only fueled the growing frustration in his chest.

 

He allowed his opponent to find an opening and that was no good.

 

Philip looked especially proud in his actions, his stance looked confident and prepared for anything. Roman huffed and readied himself once more. He was going to break that pride of his in two. 

 

Charging forward he briskly dodged a kick to the head and his split knuckles swung across Philip's face and as adrenaline coursed bubbling his blood, he smirked shortly hearing the audible crack. His leg swept Philip to the ground and the young man tumbled back-first to the ground. Roman let out a labored breath as Philip cradled his nose as he attempted to get up. Roman crouched over him barely hovering over him. He grabbed Philip by the collar and repeatedly landed blow after blow. 

 

It was then screaming so strained but audible started to pour into his ear which began softly to full-on shrieks. He paused fist pulled back and he looked up watching the spectators cheer and shout. He could hear his name laced in among the cheering being chanted. He released Philip abruptly and moved away from him. He turned and met eyes with the announcer.

 

“This fight is over!” He exclaimed flatly over the noise, “I win.”

 

The announcer paused looking hesitant but with a heavy glare, the man swiftly ended the fight. He went to raise Roman’s arm to display his victory but he released himself from the announcer’s grip. In the corner of his eye a battered body trudged itself toward an open entrance. He followed Philip briskly and once they disappeared from the view of the spectators, Roman put a hand to his shoulder. Philip instantly winced at the contact, but Roman did not release him.

 

“Get yourself cleaned up and meet me outside.” He said, “it’s your turn to put up your part of the deal.”

 

“Cut me some slack Roman, you just handed my ass to me back there.” Philip shrugged off his hold his own hand reaching over to soothe the area, “But I won’t say I didn’t expect it.”

 

“Good at least now I don’t feel too bad.” Philip chuckled lightly as he tended to his nose where blood had dried and clumped right below his nostrils

 

“Don’t kid yourself, Roman, you’re not the type of man to feel sympathy.”  

 

Roman hummed with a light shrug, “yes-well I’m not the type of man to _feel_ anything. Be outside in 10” and with that, he left.

 

* * *

 

Roman had given Philip 10 minutes and the man took 20. The ex-assassin held it in himself to hold back from snapping at the young man who was now dressed in a worn brown coat, a new white shirt, same trousers, and boots. It took him time to get where he was now but he thanked the Walls he finally made it. 

 

Roman pushed himself up from the wall he rested on and started walking down the path and Philip synced with his pace at once. The Crypt was slowly being emptied of his guests who hollered and slurred drunk profanities into the night. Roman was thankful he was finally able to leave that place. 

 

“So where are we going exactly?” Philip asked

 

“Your house.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Roman hummed with a nod, “you fight well-like a soldier” Philip huffed, “I can tell you were very promising and plenty tell me.” 

 

“Well, I’m guessing you also heard how all _tha_ t went to shit” Philip’s foot swung hard against a lonesome pebble on the street and Roman glanced over at the man evidently seeing the anguish on his face.

 

Normal _humane_ people would have trouble speaking on such matters.

 

Roman was lucky he was not one of them. 

 

“Tell me everything you know about Captain Rothberg Philip” Roman said, “I’ve wasted enough time.”

 

Philip let out a tired groan and rubbed his eyes. Roman was starting to get somewhat irritated by the lack of information and the speed he was getting it.

 

“It didn’t start the minute I was put into his squad” Philip muttered, “and the only reason why it didn’t was that he wanted more information about me like why I even bothered joining the military. Had to have something to hover over my head to keep me under wraps I guess. Maybe two weeks in is when it really started. The bastard started giving me these weird looks, making me do shit in his office like sort through letters, crap that I should’ve seen as fucking weird but it’s not every day you hear male commanding officers raping their male inferiors.” 

 

A lone man who walked past them had a look of pure bewilderment.

 

“And then pure hell began on that one night he told me to report to his house. All of us-his squadron- knew where he lived and sometimes he’d have us over for dinner or some shit. So I went and uh-we talked in his office about shit I don’t even remember anymore and then he invited me into his bedroom. The minute he asked me that’s when I realized what was happening so I declined.”

 

“And he threatened to release you of your position, correct?” Roman suggested and Philip gave a stiff nod and came to a stop

 

Roman had taken a few steps ahead before he caught on to the sudden halt. He turned back, head in a small tilt as he gazed at the young man. It wasn’t his first time seeing the aftermath of assault but it was his first seeing how its wounds ran deep in a male victim. The women he’s seen always look lost as a stray truly a breathing shell of a once lively human. They talked with fear and walked with the inkling that they’d be dragged once more into that moment of hell once again. Yet in Philip, he couldn’t see that.  The young man, steps behind, did not cower or walk beside him in fear. They called him Mad Dog but he was no stray or a living corpse.

  
  


Philip was a thrown away dream. A breathing question of ‘what if?’ and it didn’t take Roman much difficulty to see its answer.  

  
  


“Every day I hate myself for agreeing” his voice ran barren of that boyish charm, cold and bitter but wobbled with insatiable anger and guilt “for stooping _that_ low just to stay in his _fucking_ squad. Having to congregate with my comrades with him pretending like he didn’t have me going through that shit almost every night. Then coming home feeling like complete _shit_. But it was that or lose my position and slowly run out of cash”  

 

 Philip let out an almost insane bitter laugh which rang into the night and echoed eerily in Roman’s ears. He noticed at once that the moon’s light reflected on Philip’s glistening cheeks and even at a side perceptive Philip looked so broken. The young man began walking and when he caught up to roman, the ex-assassin continued on with him.

 

“But I said fuck it. I couldn’t take it after three months” Philip wiped his eyes while staring down at the cobblestone road, “So I gave my letter of resignation to one of my comrades and got the fuck outta there.”

 

“Can you recall Rothberg’s address?” Roman asked as they came to a stop in front of Philip’s house

 

The young man furrowed his eyebrows but solemnly yet slowly shook his head, “but I do remember that it’s up the street from the statue of the King, take a right and it’s the last house down that street.”

 

Roman took careful note of the information and was prepared to bid a farewell but Philip interrupted him. The young man with eyes of angry pink stepped to him jabbing a finger to his chest.

 

“You better swear to me that bastard is gonna die” He seethed, “I know how you mercenaries are and you’re all easily persuaded with cash.”

 

Roman brushed his finger to the side dryly, “I am a _former_ mercenary. This is something a bit more personal so doo not make assumptions-”

 

“Just fucking swear he’ll die!” Philip exploded shoving him back 

  
  


“Grow up already, swears and promises are for children.” Roman snapped angrily glaring back at the young man “If you want him dead so badly you better hope he runs out of use to me.”

 

Philip laughed incredulously combing his fingers profusely through his hair “ _His use to you_? That fucking bastard _raped_ me and you can’t promise me he’ll die? What kind of fucking person-”

  
  


“I told you already what kind of man I am” Roman swiftly turns on his heel choosing to ignore the murderous look on Philip’s face, “I haven’t felt sympathy- _genuine_ -sympathy since I was a child and like hell will I start now, enjoy the rest of your evening Mr. _Kocher_.”

 


End file.
